


Still Breathing (But Barely it's True)

by makealimb



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-03
Updated: 2007-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makealimb/pseuds/makealimb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Future fic. After desolution of the band, where Jon and Spencer are in Chicago and Vegas respectively, pining away for each other. (Mostly) Spencer POV. 3470 words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Breathing (But Barely it's True)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Fic Imitates Music](http://coq-au-lait.livejournal.com/1415.html) prompt, song prompt was [The Weakerthans - Left and Leaving](http://www.sendspace.com/file/jeszt5).

_**Fic: Still Breathing (But Barely it's True)**_  
 **Title:** Still Breathing (But Barely it's True)  
 **Pairing:** Jon Walker/Spencer Smith  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Fandom:** Panic! at the Disco  
 **Summary/Request:** Future fic. After desolution of the band, where Jon and Spencer are in Chicago and Vegas respectively, pining away for each other. (Mostly) Spencer POV. 3470 words.  
 **Author's Notes:** Written for the [Fic Imitates Music](http://coq-au-lait.livejournal.com/1415.html) prompt, song prompt was [The Weakerthans - Left and Leaving](http://www.sendspace.com/file/jeszt5).

Thanks to [](http://withoutmaps.livejournal.com/profile)[**withoutmaps**](http://withoutmaps.livejournal.com/) for the invaluable hand-holding through every stage of this, for the advice and picking this apart when needed, you are made of awesome, thank you for making this so much easier. Thanks also to [](http://f-lexi-ble.livejournal.com/profile)[**f_lexi_ble**](http://f-lexi-ble.livejournal.com/) and [](http://queen-geek.livejournal.com/profile)[**queen_geek**](http://queen-geek.livejournal.com/) and [](http://fallingfortruth.livejournal.com/profile)[**fallingfortruth**](http://fallingfortruth.livejournal.com/). ♥

  


* * *

  


Spencer has always consumed music like oxygen, needs it like every breath he takes, his ear tuning into every riff, every beat, savouring every note, songs often on repeat for hours on end - each time his ears picking up something new.

When they still lived on tour buses, Jon had a habit of crawling into his bunk when he was lonely or missing Chicago, pulling at Spencer's headphones until one came free, curling up next to him or sprawling on top of him, letting the lyrics and sound of Spencer's latest favorite lull him to sleep. Every time, Spencer woke to Jon's fingers curled into the cotton of his shirt, their hips pressed together, legs tangled, Jon's face buried in Spencer's neck, every breath he exhaled a tickle of warmth across Spencer's collarbone.

Spencer never slept much on those nights.

On following nights either, when his bed became a vast wasteland devoid of warmth, tossing and turning for hours, missing Jon's body heat. On those nights, Spencer crawled into Jon's bunk, shivering, exhausted, not missing the fact that Jon had been awake too. He tugged at Jon's headphones the same way, melting into his warmth, forgetting the pressures of deadlines and interviews and touring, Jon's fingers brushing over his back, neck, until he finally slept.

One night blended into the next, and while bunks sometimes turned into hotel beds, it was nearly always the same result the following morning; Jon pressed up against Spencer's back, fingers splayed across his belly, holding him close. Neither of them ever questioned it, ever spoke about it in the waking hours. It was something he came to depend on, something he missed desperately when Jon went home to Chicago every few months.

One day touring ended for the last time, and they went their separate ways, Jon back to Chicago, the others back to Vegas. They needed time out, not from _each other_ , but from touring and buses and airport lounges at 3am and living out of suitcases. Not that they hadn't loved every second of it, but after six years, they were all craving something new.

It wasn't until Jon was walking away from him at the Airport terminal, walking backwards as he waved, that Spencer felt his heart ache, Jon's bright smile making him shiver all over, making him feel a little breathless.

  


* * *

  


  
"You _like him_ ," Ryan declares, leaning against the counter. He pins Spencer with a look as he sips his coffee.

It had been a month since Jon had gone home to Chicago, a month where Spencer had ignored all calls and emails from Jon, burying himself in music and coffee and hardly leaving the house, hardly shaving, hardly showering, generally driving Ryan insane.

Spencer looks up, shakes his head, "I...I think it's _more_ than that."

Ryan blinks, the admission not what he was expecting. "You have to _do something_. You can't just ignore him until," he waves his hand around, " _this_ goes away... _if_ it goes away." He adds the last part, softly, frowning. He moves forward to envelop Spencer in a hug, holds him for a while before he speaks again.

"You need to call him. He misses you."

Spencer lets out a long sigh and clutches Ryan closer.

  


* * *

  


  
He'd delayed reading his emails all week, always repeating 'tomorrow' in his mind, crawling into bed instead with music in his ears, his only comfort, only companion. Finally, after tossing and turning for hours on the fourth night, he stumbles out of bed, exhausted, reads email after email, not stopping until he's finished.

> from: baristaboy@hotmail.com  
> to: drummerboy@gmail.com  
> date: november 5th, 2011  
> subject: home
> 
> well you weren't picking up when i called. am home. flight uneventful. speak to you in the morning, sleepy times now.
> 
> j
> 
> from: baristaboy@hotmail.com  
> to: drummerboy@gmail.com  
> date: november 7th, 2011  
> subject: no really, what?
> 
> dude. there's only so many times i want to hear your voicemail message before i want to throw my phone against the wall. and then i'll make you buy me a new phone, obvs, and then you'll bitch your face off. pick up your phone loser, i miss you bitchface. call me/msg/whatever.
> 
>   
> from: baristaboy@hotmail.com  
> to: drummerboy@gmail.com  
> date: november 9th, 2011  
> subject: kdsjfsdf
> 
> \Okay wso four of us, me and tom and niiick and stphaniew wrnt outtt tonigt and weare arlll drunk!11! I have bveen home for an hour and we alreaddty drunkdialled p[ete andf bden and now tiem for dunk email! nickk is callling me out fore mor drnnk. i miss waking up necxto you spencersmith/.
> 
>   
> from: baristaboy@hotmail.com  
> to: drummerboy@gmail.com  
> date: november 13th, 2011  
> attachment: [the weakerthans - left and leaving.mp3](http://www.sendspace.com/file/jeszt5)  
> subject:
> 
> still not picking up/returning calls/msgs/emails? it's been a week since i saw you last.  
> listen to the song i've attached. i've had it on repeat all week.
> 
>  _The sidewalks are watching me think about you,  
>  sparkled with broken glass._
> 
>   
> talk to me.
> 
>   
> from: baristaboy@hotmail.com  
> to: drummerboy@gmail.com  
> date: november 18th, 2011  
> subject: until you decide you want to talk again
> 
>   
> 
> 
>   
> from: baristaboy@hotmail.com  
> to: drummerboy@gmail.com  
> date: november 21st, 2011  
> subject: so
> 
> i don't understand what's happening. fill me in.
> 
>   
> from: baristaboy@hotmail.com  
> to: drummerboy@gmail.com  
> date: november 22nd, 2011  
> subject:
> 
>   
> 
> 
> i want to take you there.
> 
>   
> from: baristaboy@hotmail.com  
> to: drummerboy@gmail.com  
> date: november 26th, 2011  
> subject: this lyric goes round and round
> 
>   
>  _Spring forward, fall back down.  
>  I'm trying not to wonder where you are._
> 
>   
> from: baristaboy@hotmail.com  
> to: drummerboy@gmail.com  
> date: november 30th, 2011  
> subject: sdkjfsd
> 
> it's been almost a month, and you've dropped off the face of the planet.  
> no idea what i've done to cause this sort of reaction.  
> you know where/how to find me.
> 
> i miss your words, i miss your touch, i miss _you_.  
>  i won't email you again.

  
With every email read, the ache in Spencer's chest expands, until _i won't email you again_ when he drops his face into his hands. He waits for his breathing to settle, a few minutes passes before he raises his head, downloads the song Jon had sent, transfers it to his ipod right away.

Spencer reaches for his Sidekick, ignores his sweaty palms.

"I'm not going to ask _what the hell is wrong with you_ , okay?" Jon says calmly instead of a hello, "...just, don't _ever_ fucking do that again. I'm serious. Deal?"

He lets his shoulders sag, nods, words of _IthinkI'minlovewithyouJonWalker_ stuck in his throat.

  


* * *

  


  
Spencer sits upright in bed, sheets pooled around his waist, eyes squinty from sleep, hair standing on end. He waits, the clock reading 8:09, rolls out of bed when he hears the knocking again, the carpet soft on his bare feet as he moves through the apartment. He opens the door without looking through the peephole, shivers with only his boxers on, expecting Ryan with coffee, Brendon quick on his heels.

Jon stands at the door, hands shoved into pockets, "Spencer, _Spencer_ , hi hi," lip curling into a small smile, hesitates before stepping forward, hand reaching up to cup Spencer's sleep-warm cheek.

Spencer pushes into the touch, eyes fluttering shut, the ache in this chest making it hard to breathe. "I'm sorry, I'm so _sorry_ ," he whispers, opens his eyes again to find Jon staring back, no trace of anger in his eyes, only sadness and something else Spencer can't quite place.

"Come _here_ ," Jon shakes his head, pulls him into a fierce hug. Spencer makes a small noise in his throat, melts into him, holds tight. The hand curved around the back of his neck feels hot, and he shivers, fingers twisted into Jon's shirt. "What, how..i didn't know you were...,"

Pulling back slightly, Jon smiles, leans his forehead against Spencer's, "I had to see you. After the phonecall, I couldn't sleep, couldn't concentrate on anything," he tucks some hair behind Spencer's ear, and Spencer melts a tiny bit more inside, _falls in love with him_ just a tiny bit more, "...so here I am."

Spencer shivers again, despite Jon's warmth, "Come inside?"

"Well, yeah, not-standing-at-your-doorstep would be great actually," Jon's relaxed tone makes Spencer laugh, and Jon's eyes light up when he sees the smile.

"Come on loser," Spencer rolls his eyes, dropping his arms and steps back.

"Oh your words, they wound," Jon clutches at his chest, follows Spencer's laughter inside, closing the door behind them.

  


* * *

  


  
Ryan lets himself in an hour later, coffee cups in his hands, humming softly as he approaches Spencer's bedroom. He doesn't notice the breakfast dishes piled in the kitchen, the two coffee cups instead of one on the table, the jacket thrown across the couch.

He stops at the open bedroom doorway, stares at Spencer curled up into Jon's chest, asleep. As he watches, Spencer moves, restless and grumbling, and Jon reaches out, smoothing a hand over his back until he stills, pressing his lips to Spencer's temple.

Jon looks over at Ryan standing in the doorway, and they stay silent.

  


* * *

  


  
"Jonfucking _walker_!" Brendon brushes past Spencer hours later, running and leaping onto the older boy on the couch, "it's true, it's _true_ , Ryan said you were here but I didn't believe him until I saw you _myself_ ," he hugs Jon tightly, rocking back and forth, "and, you're _here_ , don't ever leave us _again_ ," Brendon rambles, Jon's laughter loud and happy, lap full of excited ex-lead-singer.

Spencer closes the door, looking sideways at Ryan, "How did you know? I didn't tell you Jon was here."

"You were asleep," he smiles, following Spencer into the kitchen, "I came by with coffee." He jumps up on the bench, watching as Spencer cleans up around him. "Have you told him yet?" He sees Spencer's face fall, and that is answer enough. "Spencer, just, promise me you will?"

At that moment Jon walks in, raids the fridge, stops to nuzzle at Spencer's neck, presses a noisy kiss to his cheek before walking out. He watches as Spencer's shoulders slump, hears the sigh. Then a soft voice, "I will. He _just_ got here, I couldn't," Spencer shakes his head, "...not yet...but I will."

  


* * *

  


  
Spencer wakes up five days later to Jon smiling down at him, and Spencer makes a face, Jon's laughter making him smile. He curls into Jon, fitting perfectly in the crook of Jon's arm, watches him stare back.

"So, I was thinking..." Jon starts, tucking some hair behind Spencer's ear, a habit that still makes Spencer shiver and smile wide. "You should move to Chicago, with me. Move in with me. Because i kinda want to be with you always, and I don't want to be coming back and forth all the time."

Spencer blinks, wanting to pinch himself to be sure that he'd heard that last statement correctly. "Ugh..." he untangles himself from Jon's arms and legs, swings his legs over the side of the bed to sit up. He covers his face with his hands and sighs.

"Spencer?" Jon rubs a hand over his back, and Spencer shies away from the touch, standing now. "What's wrong?"

He turns to look at him then, hands on his hips, "You just asked me to move in with you." _You want to be with me always?_

"And?" Jon sits up, a perplexed look on his face. "It's a perfectly valid question."

"It just," Spencer paces, heartbeat racing wildly in his chest, "sounds like something you'd ask a girlfriend, or _boy_ friend, lover. And you really _shouldn't_ ask me that."

"Why the hell not? I like being around you," Jon stands now, grabbing at Spencer's elbow. "Why are you acting this way?"

" _Youwanttobewithmealways?_ " Spencer looks at him then, wide-eyed, ignoring the tingling sensation of Jon's fingers on his skin. He pulls away from him again, not waiting for an answer, pulls a shirt on over his head and walks out of the room.

"Yes! _Spencer_ , stop," Jon trails after him, corners him in the kitchen, trapping him against the kitchen bench. Spencer pushes against him, trying to pass, but Jon only grabs his arms, holds him tighter, "stop it, _please_."

Spencer holds very still, arms up over his chest, refusing to meet his gaze, "Let go of me."

Jon steps back, lets his arms drop at his sides. "Talk to me Spencer, don't shut me out, not again."

He looks up then, eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and regret, "You think i _wanted_ to do that?"

"Well, i _really don't know_ ," Jon's voice was raised now, exasperated, "you went a month without _speaking_ to me, I still have no idea _why_."

 _Becauseiminlovewithyou_ , it was on the tip of Spencer's tongue. Spending the last five days with Jon constantly, waking up wrapped up in his warmth, his sleepy smiles, Spencer's feelings are stronger than ever. Instead, he picks up his keys, backs away and towards the door. "I have to go. I...need some time to think."

"Fine. _Go_ ," Jon shakes his head, looking down at the ground. Spencer stops, watches Jon's shoulders slump, his fingers itching to reach out, to smooth out the frown on Jon's features. "I thought a month was enough thinking time," Jon adds softly, and Spencer knows it's the truth.

He turns his back, and walks away.

  


* * *

  


  
 _Ryanross, Spencersmith is driving me insane._

Ryan re-reads the message, and presses 'call'.

"What's going on?" Ryan whispers, closing the bedroom door behind him on a still-sleeping Brendon, and curls up on the couch.

"He's completely batshit _insane,_ " Ryan grins at that, "I told him he should come back to Chicago, move in with me, and now he's acting completely _psychotic_ and he _walked out_ -"

"You asked him to move in? With you? _Chicago?_ " and for a moment, Ryan feels like erupting into laughter, imagining what Spencer's expression would have been. He bites his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, slapping a hand over his mouth.

"Well, _yeah_ , I thought it was a good idea, you know I love Vegas but it's not _home_ ," his voice softens, "and I hate being away from him."

"Jon, how long have you been in love with my best friend?"

Jon makes a noise at the other end of the line, having forgotten how up-front Ryan could sometimes be. Ryan can hear him breathing, can imagine the frown as Jon tries to sort out his thoughts.

"Um. Since Truckstops?"

"Fuck, _Jon._ "

"I know, i _know_ , Jon walker is a loser," he shakes his head, slaps a hand to his forehead. Six years was a long time.

"What about Cassie?"

"I loved her, no doubt. I loved them both."

"Polyamory, huh?" Ryan teases, smiling at Jon's soft-but-sad laughter, not knowing how to make it better. "You could have done something years ago."

"Ryan, I was too fucking scared about messing with a good thing, fucking _amazing_ thing, our _band_. And, Spencer was with Haley then, and I was with Cassie..." Jon shakes his head at himself. It's been less than a year since Spencer ended things with Haley, while Jon and Cassie broke up years ago, the difficulties of a long-distance relationship too much.

"Jon, have you ever considered the fact that Spencer might feel the same?" Ryan bites at his lip, not knowing if he's overstepped the best-friend mark by saying too much.

Jon makes a noise in his throat, then becomes silent. Ryan can almost _hear_ him thinking, and waits.

"No, _never_."

Ryan sighs, "Go find him. Talk to him. _Tell him_ how you feel. Six years is long enough to wait."

The older boy smiles, "I love you Ryan Ross. I would totally hug you right now."

"Yeah yeah," Ryan waves a hand around, grinning widely, "go get your man."

  


* * *

  


  
Spencer has been walking the streets of his neighbourhood, hands shoved in his pockets, walking but not really seeing what's in front of him. Every time he comes back to his apartment steps, he looks up at the building, Jon's words echoing in his mind.

 _You should move to Chicago, with me. Move_ in _with me. Because i kinda want to be with you always._

Always. It's what he wants too, and after a few hours of letting the words sink in, he's ready. To take the next step, to tell the truth, because what Jon is offering, it's everything he's wanted, and it's his for the taking.

He walks home.

  


* * *

  


  
Jon hears the key slide into the door, and he opens it, Spencer surprised and wide-eyed.

He steps forward, "Spencer," he whispers, has a whole speech planned but then _Spencer is here_ , and he loses the ability to form intelligent conversation. He cups Spencer's face with his hands, brushing his thumb across his cheek, and stares, feeling Spencer's breath on his face. _He hasn't pulled away._

Spencer wants to say something, but he's too busy trying to breathe under Jon's intense gaze, his touch.

"Spencer," Jon repeats, and leans in, brushes his lips against Spencer's hesitantly, softly. Spencer presses closer, the whimper against Jon's lips unmistakable, and curls a hand around Jon's neck, kisses back, slow, gentle, his heart racing. Jon pulls him into the apartment, their lips never parting, backing him up against the door, kisses him again, and again, until they're both breathless. Spencer sucks on Jon's bottom lip gently as he pulls away, lips curling into a smile at Jon's moan.

Jon swallows, eyes filled with want, "You're really good at that," glances down at Spencer's lips again, wet and swollen, and it makes him moan all over again, press in a little closer, nuzzling at his neck.

Spencer shivers, feeling brave. "Jon," he speaks, quietly, continuing when Jon meets his gaze, "can we talk?"

"Sorry, of course," Jon forces himself to move, his arms drop at his sides, steps back.

Spencer misses his warmth immediately, leans forward to steal a quick kiss, grinning when Jon's face lights up all over again. "Come," he links their fingers together, tugs him over to the couch. Once Jon is settled in one one end, he curls up at the other end, purposely sitting away to not get distracted. Jon watches him, waiting silently.

"I'm sorry, for freaking out on you this morning. I'm sorry, for ignoring you for a month...for not telling you what was going on, " Spencer shakes his head, worry filling his features all over again.

"What happened? Can you tell me?" Jon's tone is soft, encouraging.

"In short, I..." he looks down at his hands, "realised i was in love with you, that day at the Airport, when you left for home. You were walking away, and..." he shakes his head, "I'm sorry. I did my best to ignore it, by _ignoring you_ ," he looks up at Jon then, "but it didn't change a thing."

Jon makes a noise in his throat, reaches out a hand, "Come here," and Spencer follows, lets Jon pull him into his lap until he's straddling Jon's hips. He slips his hands under Spencer's shirt, pulling him close, their lips meeting again. "I love you," he whispers, and Spencer melts against him, "...I have for years. Sleeping next to you for years while on tour", he grins sheepishly, "was just an excuse to be close to you."

Spencer shakes his head, disbelieving. He slides his fingers through Jon's hair, gaze moving from Jon's eyes to his mouth, leaning in to brush their lips together, soft, wet. Jon presses up into the kiss, changing the angle, lips parting a little when Spencer's tongue slips across his bottom lip, and Jon shudders, groaning at the feel of Spencer's tongue sliding against his. Again Spencer sucks at Jon's bottom lip when they break apart, and Jon rocks up against him, cursing loudly.

"Ask me again," Spencer whispers, nuzzling at Jon's cheek, gasping for oxygen when he pulls away, "ask me again."

Jon shakes his head, distracted by Spencer's lips, "What?"

"What you asked this morning," Spencer rolls his hips, presses Jon back against the cushions, licking into his mouth.

Jon swallows desperately when Spencer changes his attention to his neck, teeth and lips and tongue making it impossible to focus. "Spencer," he whines, "stop talking."

  


* * *

  


  
"This the last bag?" Jon takes it from Ryan, who nods, a smile on his lips as he watches Jon try to fit more in the already too-full car. Jon whines, "How can _one_ person have so many pairs of shoes, I have no idea," his one bag to Spencer's nine, and ignores Ryan's laughter. "Shutup Ross."

Ryan laughter is loud, only increasing when Brendon brings down another bag. By the time Spencer locks the apartment and joins them, Ryan and Brendon are clutching eachother, tears in their eyes, hysterical.

"You are so fucking lucky I love you Spencer Smith," Jon flips off the other two, smiling despite himself.

Spencer grabs him, kisses him til he's breathless. "Let's go."

  


**********

  


 _my city's still breathing (but barely it's true)  
through buildings gone missing like teeth.  
the sidewalks are watching me think about you,  
sparkled with broken glass.  
im back with scars to show.  
back with the streets I know  
will never take me anywhere but here.  
the stain in the carpet, this drink in my hand,  
the strangers whose faces I know.  
we meet here for our dress-rehearsal to say " I wanted it this way"  
wait for the year to drown.  
spring forward, fall back down.  
i'm trying not to wonder where you are.  
all this time lingers, undefined.  
someone choose who's left and who's leaving.  
memory will rust and erode into lists of all that you gave me:  
a blanket, some matches, this pain in my chest,  
the best parts of Lonely, duct-tape and soldered wires,  
new words for old desires,  
and every birthday card I threw away.  
i wait in 4/4 time.  
count yellow highway lines that you're relying on to lead you home..._

THE END


End file.
